


The Hunt for Achievement Kingdom

by The_Mad_Hero_of_Time



Series: Tales from a Bygone Age [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Minecraft, F/M, Gen, Prologue story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Mad_Hero_of_Time/pseuds/The_Mad_Hero_of_Time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hundreds of years ago, before the Kingdom of Free was established and became the greatest kingdom known to man, there was the Kingdom of Achievement. It was a Kingdom built on the blood and sacrifice of the people who believed in what its leaders stood for. However, it did not appear overnight. Achievement was the result of an uprising spearheaded by six individuals: the Achievement Hunters. The rebellion was led by Bishop Geoff Ramsey and his five Dukes, who were determined to over throw the Overworld Kingdom. They wanted to cast down the Old World and prop up a new one. This is an old tale passed down through annals of time about the end of the Revolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ready for Anything

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I've been sitting on for a bit now. I wasn't sure whether or not to really take the time to develop this one or not. In the end, I decided "Why the hell not? What's the worst that could happen?" (P.S. the worst that could happen is that this completely flops) I'm a big fan of medieval-style fics, so this was a lot of fun to do!  
> I should say that I am in no way affiliated with Rooster Teeth, Achievement Hunter, or Funhaus, or anything of the like.  
> I welcome any and all comments and constructive criticism. Enjoy!

 “Gavin!” Geoff shouted, “keep your ass covered!” His big nose friend turned back at him to yell something in retort, just in time for an arrow to go whizzing past his head.

“Bugger!” Gavin shouted as he dropped into the grass and leaves. The forest terrain blended well with his creeper-green clothes. The way he crawled across the forest floor seemed to imitate what it looked like when a groundhog scurried below the surface.

Once he was behind the safety of an oak tree, Gavin shouted, “What the hell, Geoff? You almost got me skewered through the eye!” As if on cue, one of the Revolutionary soldiers under their command bolted past Gavin. A mere second later, he dropped cold from an arrow in the skull. “See? Like that!” the foreigner commented.

“If I hadn't, you'd have got your dick destroyed by an Old World barrage!” Geoff replied. … As if on cue, a squad of Overworld soldiers emerged from the thick layer of trees, armed to the teeth. “See? Like that!”

“You jackasses need a hand?” called a voice. Gavin and Geoff turned back to their own side to see their friends Ray Narvaez and Ryan Haywood marching forward with their own squad of Revolutionaries following closely behind them. “The R&R Connection is bringing in the cavalry, bitches!”

“The cavalry usually contains horses,” Ryan corrected his friend under his breath. He took a quick look behind him in order to check out his soldiers. “I don't think we have any horses on our side here.”

“Fuck semantics!” Ray shouted as he raised his falchion over his head. “Death to the Old World!” The battalion of Revolutionaries rallied in response to their Duke. They began their charge with a mighty, earth-shaking all.

The battalions of soldiers collided in a tiny valley between two hills in the woods, creating a bit of a ditch for the fallen. For the next seven minutes, all the sounds pervading the air were a collection of war cries, steel clangs, death screams, and sickening thuds. Geoff had joined in on the battle with Ray and Ryan while Gavin stayed on the high ground flinging arrows left and right at from his leather quicker into the skulls and breastplates of the Old World soldiers.

Ray was enjoying the challenge of an open melee with multiple variables. The fact that anyone could interrupt a personal battle he was in the middle of and kill him gave him a rush he could not describe. His falchion Blayze allowed his attacks to flow quickly and seamlessly, which made it look as though he was slicing through multitudes of enemies in one, fluid motion.

Ryan derived pleasure from the battle as well, but his was of a totally different variety. It wasn't the fact that any moment his life could end that turned him onto the struggle. It was all of the pain he inflicted. His giant greatsword Alfatu left the men in his wake missing limbs, heads, and even in complete halves (vertical or horizontal). The battlefield was one of the only places that allowed Ryan to show a hint of his true self self. His true, kilt-wearing self.

Geoff took no real pleasure in the needless slaughter of soldiers from the army he used to fight for, but it was what had to be done. It wasn't that he was scared of killing his former friends, he just thought it was needless to fight. He was leading forward-thinking people into a new age, and if people of the Old World dared to prevent that, then blood would just have to be spilled.

Ray and Ryan were, at one point, forced back-to-back because of being surrounded by a load of Overworlders. This was a very bad situation … for the Overworlders. One soldier lowered a spear and charged ahead at Ray. The Rose Duke reached out and grabbed the shaft of the spear as it neared his chest and pulled hard. The enemy soldier swung around to Ryan's side; Ryan raised Alfatu and brought it down on the man's shoulder. He was cut cleanly in half.

The R&R Connection charged the Overworlders that surrounded them. Ray cut down two with one fluid strike. Ryan swung his greatsword parallel to the ground and released a soldier's top half from his bottom half. The bloody onslaught continued for another minute or so until Ray and Ryan were the only one standing covered in blood. Not their own blood, of course, but covered in blood nonetheless. Ray was smiling. Ryan was laughing.

As the heat of battle began to dwindle down, the only soldiers of the Old World that still drew breath counted eight. Before their death sentences could be carried out, they abandoned the battle field. They climbed their way out of the deadly ditch and bolted into the forest, hoping to escape with their life. Unfortunately, they would not be granted their wish.

The Revolutionary the soldiers forgot was in the battle was Gavin Free. He had He had scrambled up to the thick trees and hid with his enchanted bow Nutt. The Tree Archer kept a close eye on the battle's proceedings, so he was able to spot the soldiers tucking their tails between their legs and running like scared children fairly easily.

Gavin scampered through the trees, keeping pace with the speed of the Overworlders, but he was thirty feet above them. In between branch to branch, Gavin was able to nock an arrow onto Nutt's magical string.

“Mark Nutt!!!” the archer screamed. He let the arrow fly straight and true, as if the gods themselves held the projectile in their hands, right into a soldier's neck. The head of the arrow severed the man's jugular, causing a massive amount of blood to shoot from the other side when it went all the way through. He dropped to the ground without a sound uttered and a dull and sickening thud against the leaves.

The seven Old World soldiers scattered behind cover within the blink of an eye. They didn't see where the arrow came from; they just assumed it came from behind them, not above. Some of them chose to hide behind trees and others went into the thick bushes. Gavin just smiled as he watched them rush around in panic.

Gavin crept along the branches until he was past the soldiers and well behind them, then he jumped out of the tree he sat in and into a series of bushes. He made sure to make quite a lot of noise on his way down. “Bollocks!” he shouted upon impact.

The soldiers became spooked and started to run towards the sound. It wasn’t thirty seconds before they found Gavin struggling to get out of the masses of twigs and vines. They surrounded him while brandishing their remorseless blades of steel.

“Well, well,” a soldier spoke, “looks like we caught ourselves a Duke! I'd know that green tunic anywhere.” He looked around at the other men that surrounded Gavin. “This here's Gavin, the Fool!” The other Overworlders all took a second look at the man in the bushes before agreeing in that they’d apprehended a Duke of the Revolution.

One soldier held up his sword. “Well, let's kill him, already!” he shouted. His comment warranted a few ayes from the group.

“Nay!” exclaimed the first soldier in retort. “This man is a cherished friend to the False Bishop Geoff. We may be able to take him with us as a sort of insurance to get out of this godforsaken forest.”

“That won't work,” another soldier said. “Geoff will slaughter us without hesitation if he finds out that we are keeping him hostage, or gods forbid kill him. We should just take all his shit and leave him here, unconscious.”

“Uh, boys?” Gavin interjected, still sitting in the bushes. “Can I 'ave a say, here?” All of the soldiers just silently looked at him, either in annoyance or disbelief. The Fool pushed himself out of the bush and dusted himself off. “If you really want to get out of these woods alive, then you should listen to me.”

The first soldier raised his straight-sword to Gavin's throat. “Why the FUCK would we listen to, let alone collaborate with, a Revolutionary? You are all scum who want to uproot all the Overworld has given you! You lie, steal, assassinate the innocent all for your own agenda! Why should we even give you a chance to speak?”

Gavin calmly pulled his head away from the blade that threatened to end him. “You should listen to me, you twats, because I can guarantee your safety.” The soldier hesitated for a moment or two before lowering his sword. “That's a good start, lad,” Gavin smiled.

“Now,” the archer continued, “I can make sure that you and your friends here don't get their assholes ripped open by Geoff giant pickaxe, but you have to swear on your gods that no harm will come to be by your hands.” The Overworlders looked around at each other before grumbling in agreement. “Excellent,” Gavin complimented. “Now, as you said, Geoff think of me as one of his closest friends, so he he listens to me. If you men you escort me to me encampment, without bounds of course, I'm sure Bishop Geoff could find a suitable use for you men that doesn't include your heads on a pike or skewered from ass to mouth.”

* * *

 

Geoff paced back and forth in his tent. The battle had ended nearly an hour ago, but Gavin was still nowhere to be found. The Bishop never worried about his friend being out on his own, but they were deep within enemy territory with eight enemy soldiers unaccounted for that could easily overpower Gavin if he wasn't careful. While Geoff had hand-picked Gavin as his third Duke, he also knew that Gavin did have a fuck-up streak, so far all Geoff knew, Gavin's head was on a pike or skewered from ass to mouth somewhere in the woods.

The tent flap opened, letting in the chilly, winter wind so it could take a stab into the warm tent. Geoff looked up from his pacing, hoping to spot his big-nosed companion. Instead, he was greeted with the face of his oldest and most trusted friend: Jack Patillo.

Jack was a giant of a man. Tall and muscular, he was easily the biggest of Geoff's Dukes. He had glasses that made him look more like a normal scholar and less like a mountain with clothes on. His green tunic was printed with a white tree with extending branches and was matted down with dirt, sweat, and dried blood, no doubt that the skirmish he and his men were returning from had been quite a heated one. His giant, ginger beard was soiled in the same manner, an unfortunate side effect of not dawning on a helmet before smashing heads off with his was hammer, Ahwu.

Jack noticed right away when Geoff's face fell as he saw Jack' that something was definitely wrong. “What's the matter, Geoff?” the mountain of a man asked.

Geoff, walking back to his maps on the table, replied, “Gavin's not back yet.” He slapped an open palm on the part of the map that depicted the forest they were in: Arachnawoods. “I saw him head after the survivors of our most recent skirmish. He was giving chase from up in the trees, but he has yet to return to camp.”

The Bearded Duke could tell where Geoff was likely to come to conclusion, so he attempted to try and rationalize the situation. “Maybe he just stopped of for a little break,” he offered, “tree hoping is rather tiring after a while after all. Or, he may have just gotten lost. You know better than any of us just how stupid he can be at times.”

“I certainly do,” Geoff muttered while rubbing the stump while his left pinkie finger used to be. “But it's more than that,” the Bishop retorted. “I just have this feeling in my gut that he's surrounded by Old World men and is being escorted to his death.” Geoff looked at Jack with a personal worry in his eyes that Jack hadn't seen since –

Ray came bursting into Geoff's tent gasping for air with an exited look about him. “Geoff,” he called to get his friend's attention, “one of our scouts caught sight of Gavin walking in our direction with the remaining Old World soldiers.”

“So, what does this mean?” Jack asked Ray. He feared the worst: Gavin had turned traitor.

“We aren't really sure, yet,” Ray replied. “He _does_ appear to be friendly with the enemy, so it wouldn't be a difficult leap to assume that he may have struck a deal with them in order to save his own skin.”

“That's not it,” retorted Geoff, who had been silent. “He's leading them to their deaths.” When neither duke responded to his statement, he said, “You guys don't see it?” Jack and Ray shook their heads. Geoff sighed. “He was probably captured while he was busy following them. He then used that innocent look and voice of his to convince them that they were safer in my custody as POW's rather than being on the run in the woods. He wants us to see him coming so we can prepare to slaughter those bastards.”

“Are you positive, Geoff” Jack asked. “I know that you know Gavin better than anyone, but I think that is too well thought out of a plan for Gavin to come up with. Are you sure that his plan will benefit us and not be part of our destruction.

Ray put a hand on Jack's shoulder. “Definitely,” he confirmed. “Like you said: Gavin's an idiot. He wouldn't think to betray us on his own. Right, Geoff?”

“Yes,”

* * *

 

Gavin and his new “friends” came to the treeline that bordered the clearing where Geoff's encampment was. The archer threw up a hand to signal them to stop. “From here on out, it's be better if you guys sheathed your weapons and whatnot. These lads will search for any excuse to gut an Overworlder,” he warned. The soldiers complied with no resistance. “Now,” he smiled, “let's go meet your new mates.”

The Revolutionary camp was placed along the treeline of the Southwest corner of a pentagonal clearing in the Arachnawoods. The base was enclosed with quick-built wooden walls with a “door” with was really just a wooden plank slid on and off the opening in the wall.

When Gavin approached these walls, there were shouts to stop them. “Duke Free!” a voice called, “why are you being followed by Old World dogs?”

Gavin humphed. “They are with me because we have business together. They have come to speak with the Bishop in hopes to join in in exchange for information.”

Before the man on the wall could reply, there was a mix of raised voices inside the camp that Gavin was incapable of making out. The archer hoped the guard was smart enough to see what he was doing because if not, there was a good chance he might gotten himself killed for no reason at all. Then, there was silence, save for the labored breathing of the Overworlders who were hoping to not be slaughtered.

The camp's “door” opened, revealing Geoff on the other side with open arms and a smile on his face. “Welcome back, Gavin,” he beamed. “I was beginning to think you wouldn't find your way back to camp.” When he caught sight of the Old World men, he added, “I nearly sent out half my army into the woods in order to find you.” The thought of hundreds of soldiers hunting for the man they held in custody caused the Overworlders to swallow hard and begin to perspire. “So,” the Bishop continued, “who are your new companions?”

“Oh, they're the remaining soldiers from your little skirmish you had earlier,” Gavin explained. “They have witnessed our might firsthand and have seen the error of the Old World, so they wish to accompany us and possibly join our military.”

“Is that so?” Geoff pondered. After a moment, he nodded. “Very well, then. I think that would be an excellent idea. Although, they _are_ Old World soldiers, and by the look of them, they have been for many years. So I believe I may have to make them prove their new-found loyalty.” He stepped aside and gestured toward his private tent with his arm. “I would like to meet with each of you personally and get some information from you. Should it be useful, I will happily admit you into the Revolutionary Army.”

One brave little knight of the Old World rose a steel clad hand. “What if we have no information that is worth anything?” he asked.

“Well,” Geoff trailed off. He looked around the camp and locked eyes with Ryan across the way. He was sat on a tree stump, wiping the blood off of Alfatu and sharpening one of its sides with a whetstone. Geoff grinned and turned back to the Old World men. “In that case,” he explained, “I'll turned you over into the custody of Duke Haywood over there.”

The Overworlders may not have understood what was so terrifying about being under Ryan's custody, but Gavin was all too familiar. While Ryan was generally a nice man who cared for his friends and used his brains to help them, he did have a dark side darker than an Enderman's soul. When just the right button was pressed, he would snap and leave a trail of death and destruction in his wake. Gavin had been a witness to one of those events.

Just after Geoff had begun his Revolution, the Bishop and the Dukes where recruiting brave souls for their army. During one of the recruitment drives, Ryan was attempting to sway the poor farmers of a village, but things were not going his way. During his speech against the Overworld Monarchy, he was continually ridiculed and even assaulted by flying rocks and other things. In order to cool himself off, Ryan hid in a local pub to grab a drink. During his drinking, two patrons in the pub started a fight that soon included everyone inside. When Gavin rode into town a mere hour later, he discovered the pub burned to the ground and Ryan standing in front of the flames and ashes with Alfatu in his right hand a the head of a person in the other.

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, only two of the Old World soldiers were able to provide Geoff with any valuable information about the enemy. As a consequence for their incompetence, they were given over to Ryan. The Mad Duke called for a meeting in middle of there camp and nearly every soldier attended. There was a clearing in the middle of the gathering place where the five Old World soldiers were gathered on one side, and on the other was Ryan.

“So,” Ryan bellowed for everyone around to hear, “Here, we have five soldiers of the Old World Monarchy who thought that they could simply come into our encampment without any repercussion for killing our brothers in arms.” Jeers and insults rang out through the grouping of Overworld soldiers. A rock or two was even thrown and hit the Old World soldiers in the back. Ryan held Alfatu out in front of him with his hand on it's sheath. “I, Duke Ryan Haywood, proclaim you five as criminals against Bishop Geoff Ramsey and his Revolutionary movement. As an opportunity to prove your innocence, I will allow you to have a trial by combat. If the five of you combined can slay me, I have ordered these men behind me to personally escort you back to your military encampment completely unharmed. But if you can't, you'll be to dead to care.”

Gavin couldn't help but smirk at the scene. He, along with every Revolutionary soldier there knew that there was no way Ryan would lose. And even if he was somehow killed, the Old World soldiers would still be skewered by lancers and hanged from trees.

Ryan drew Alfatu from its sheath and pointed the greatsword at the Old World soldiers. “Do you wish to fight for your freedom or simply by slaughtered like sheep?” Before any of the men answered, Ryan added, “By the way, if you get too close to the border of my soldiers while fighting, there is a chance you may get a sword through the leg, just a warning.”

After a moment, all five of the men stood their ground and unsheathed their swords (one had an axe and one had a lance, but one must digress). “If you are what stands between us and our freedom to leave this joke of a military camp,” one soldier stated, “then I hope you have made peace with the gods, because you will not leave this battle with your head.”

“Ooh,” Ryan cooed, “You sound like fun.” He threw Alfatu's sheath away and thrust the blade into the ground. “Very well, then. Come at me.”

The five took a formation with two swordsman in front and the axeman on the left, the other swordsman on the right, and the lancer in the middle. They all gave a bone rattling battle cry and charged Ryan all at once. As they quickly closed the gap between them and Ryan, the Mad Duke plucked Alfatu from the dirt and dodged to the left. In the motion of doing so, Ryan held out his blade to take a swipe at the swordsman and the axeman. The swordsman was able to duck the blade, but the axeman wasn't so lucky because he caught the tip of Alfatu in the throat. He fell to the grown and bled out in seconds.

With their formation already compromised, the four soldiers abandoned their strategy and attempted to surround the Mad Duke. However, Ryan was wise to the act and kept moving around the area to prevent them from gaining a solid formation. He charged one of the swordsman with Alfatu held high over his head. The soldier gave a hard thrust to Ryan's chest to stop him in his tracks, but the Duke quickly brought down his greatsword on the other blade, and the Overworlder's sword smacked into the dirt. Before he could strike him down, Ryan had to move out of the way of another sword passing right by his head.

When he regained his stance, he was immediately set upon by two swordsman. He dodged one swing and parried the other. He squeezed between gap the soldiers provided for him and gave a twirling slice to the back of on of them which gave a deep cut into a soldier's armour and back. He fell to the ground with a painful howl. The unharmed soldier picked up his sword, turned around, and gave a horizontal slice at the Duke which Ryan easily parried. The duke parried attack after attack until it became apparent that he was merely playing with the swordsman. Ryan parried one final time before he forced the soldier's blade into the ground and punched him in the face. The Overworlder fell to the ground and Ryan leaped on top of him, driving his knee into the man's chest and breaking his ribs.

Ryan left the man alive and turned to the two other soldiers who were still not cut or broken. The lancer charged with the point of his spear aimed at Ryan's black heart. When the tip was mere inches from the Duke's chest, Ryan grabbed the shaft of the lance with one hand and stopped it cold, and the momentum that the Overworlder carried in the charge forced him to lode grip of his lance and tumble forward. Ryan dropped the lance and quickly grabbed the man by the throat. He held the man high in the air and shoved Alfatu into his stomach. The Overworlder began to cough up blood as Ryan dropped him to the ground to die slowly.

With three soldiers left, one being the only one still able to fight, Ryan face the untouched swordsman. “Still refuse to die?” the Duke asked. The swordsman answered with a charge and a battle cry. Ryan scoffed as he backpedaled and sidestepped each following blow with a kind of indifferent look on his face. He knocked away the man's blade every time it came close, but he was never in any kind of danger. Growing increasingly bored, Ryan dodged a stab and lunged forward into a headbutt that knocked the soldier on his ass. The Duke shoved his boot into the Overworlder's throat and broke his neck with a single step.

When Ryan took his boot away from the man's broken neck, he saw the gut stabbed man had bled out and the back sliced man was finally back on his feet, but he wasn't looking good. He slowly walked over to the final soldier and put a hand on the beaten man's shoulder. “Seeing as you have yet to die,” he said, “I will give you a choice in death. Quick or painful.”

“I... choose,” the final Overworlder panted, “your death!” He gripped his sword and swung hard. Ryan was nearly beheaded, but he was able to step backward and dodge the attack by mere centimeters. The Duke laughed and attacked the man's sword arm with a vertical swing, slicing through the bone like butter. The severed forearm plopped into the dirt with blood pooling from the disgusting stub.

Ryan swiftly grabbed the man by his throat, keeping him on his “feet”. “So,” Ryan mused, “Painful it is, then.” With his sword hand, he slowly pushed Alfatu into the man's stomach until half of the entire blade poked out of his back. The sword was coated in gleaming, hot, sticky blood, and many of the Revolutionary soldiers could be heard gagging or laughing. Ryan gave the slowly dying man a malicious grin that looked like his soul held the devil himself. With one hand, the Mad Duke pulled Alfatu down, slicing through the soldier's midsection and coming out through his groin. Blood gushed from the gaping split along the man's vertical basis, and intestines hung out of his body like a child's broken puppet. Ryan kept the man's face mere inches from his so he could witness the phenomenon of watch the light die out of someone's eyes. It gave him a sense of accomplishment he rarely felt in any other activity.

Revolutionary soldiers were quiet. Not one sound was made because they were all in shock at the scene before them. They had all seen Ryan on the battlefield and the madness he carried, but this was not something they could glorify or brag about being a part of. They could only watch in horrified silence.

Gavin and Ray had watched the entire fight side by side without a word passed between them. When Ryan let the final corpse fall, Ray, leaned into Gavin's ear and whispered, “Hey, have you heard from Michael yet?”

Gavin shook his head. “No,” he replied. “But, I think he should be back soon. The last crow he sent said he was ready to attack.”

 

 


	2. Barbarians and Strategies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my second chapter! Just as a little side note for my process, I write these whole chapters one sitting at a time, so if some seem to short, it's all I can think of to do at the time of the sitting. If I were to come back to it later, the chapter would go in a whole different direction.  
> I am in no way affiliated with Rooster Teeth, Achievement Hunter, or Funhaus.  
> Enjoy!

Just before dawn, Duke Michael Jones crouched low on the top of the cliff where he and his regiment of five warriors were stationed. Below them was a small encampment of about one hundred Old World soldiers. These one hundred men were slated to ambush Geoff and the other Dukes while they were traveling in the narrow woods in a few days. Luckily, Geoff received intelligence of their plan in time, so he sent Michael out, along with his Barbarians, to either gain information on the Old World army's plan or slaughter every last one of the hundred assassins.

The young duke was more than eager to oblige his Bishop. Michael was easily Geoff's most ferocious (and hot-headed) duke. When the young Jones boy met the Revolutionary leader just two short years ago, Michael was but seventeen years of age.

(Flashback-Fiver Years Ago)

Geoff, along with Gavin, Jack, and Ryan, were making their way through a small area in the northeast region of the Overworld, recruiting soldiers for the army. The Bishop and the Dukes stopped off in a small city known as Jersey in order to rest because they had been riding for nearly two days straight with less than an hour for breaks and no sleep. When they entered the inn at the edge of the city, Ryan and Gavin went directly to their rooms while Geoff and Jack stayed in the front at the bar for a mug or two (or seven) of mead.

Over the course of the tenure of their alcohol consumption, Geoff became increasingly belligerent, openly speaking out against the Overworld and its monarchical tyranny. Unbeknownst to the Bishop and his Duke, a small squadron of Overworld soldiers had entered the tavern and bore witness to Geoff's outbursts. Not wanting to appear cowardly in front of the commoners, the Old World men confronted the drunken pair. No weapons were drawn, but a bar room brawl quickly ensured that soon ensnared every patron inside the tavern.

In the end, Geoff and Jack were standing tall, laughing in the ruined interior of the bar with a number soldiers and patrons littered across the floor. What they didn't see was that there were two bodies moving on the ground behind them. One of them was an Overworld soldier who had drawn a dagger from his fancy leather boot, and the other was a seventeen year old boy with messed up curly hair and a busted lip.

The soldier stood up and charged the two Revolutionaries with a wounded yell. He closed the distance between them so fast, Geoff and Jack did not have time to register what was really going on. Mere inches from Geoff's heart, the Overworld soldier was forced away from the Bishop and down onto the ground. The young man had tackled the soldier and planted him on the floor. He punched the armored man over and over again, making a sickening thud each and every time. Eventually, the soldier ceased reacting to the blows. He was dead.

The young man stood up and faced Geoff and Jack. “Well,” he said, out of breath, “my hand hurts now.” Geoff chuckled a little bit as the mystery man sat back down at the bar and picked up a previously sitting mug of ale.

Geoff sat down next to him. “My name's Geoff,” he said. “Can I ask yours?”

The man finished his current glug of alcohol and slammed the mug onto the bar. “Name's Michael,” he responded, “Michael Jones.” Then he went back to his drink.

Geoff smiled. “I see that you don't seem to have many good feelings toward the Overworld Military. My friend and I aren't too keen on them either.”

“So I heard earlier.”

By this point, Jack had sat down on Geoff other side and began eating a leg of meat still leftover. Geoff continued, “You see, the two of us are actually in town doing a bit of recruitment for a little revolution.” Michael looked at Geoff and raised an eyebrow. “Would you be interested in taking down this fucking broken world and building a new one?”

Michael drank the offer in for a moment. He smiled, “I'm listening.

(Flashback-End)

Michael chuckled as he recalled his first meeting with Jack and Geoff. If he had not pulled that soldier away from Geoff's heart, the whole Revolution might never have happened. It was a something he took pride in every time he saw his reflection in the water. He kept the Revolution afloat. Granted, nearly every one of the Dukes had a story where they saved one another's life at some point or another.], but Michael still though his story was pretty cool.

The sun began to slowly creep up on the Old World camp, shining on the early morning mist and giving the land a mystical feel. Micheal saw another effect of the fog: the perfect cover. He silently led his men down from the cliff and over to the Eastern entrance to the camp. There, when they attacked, the sun would be at their backs and in the enemy's eyes.

Michael loved using the element of surprise, at least, whenever it worked in his favor. He enjoyed watching people's faces change from a look of utter shock to crippling fear in a mere instant. He didn't even like killing that much, he just liked feeling the emotions of the battlefield: the anger rising to a fever pitch, the fear burrowing into the hearts of those helpless to the fight, the sadness the victors felt as they mourned their fallen comrades.

The Duke of Rage and his five men stood at the entrance to the camp and drew their weapons. On the back of Michael's bear fur tunic was a razor sharp straightsword that he had taken to calling “Rage” for simplicity (he always thought Ryan's sword's name was a bit too complicated). Michael drew Rage from its sheath and tightened his two hand grip on its hilt.

“All right,” the Duke grunted. “FOR THE REVOLUTION!!!” The five men at his back cheered in response as all six of them stormed into the enemy camp.

The Old World soldiers were completely caught off guard. Most of them were not in their armor, and some were still in their underwear or taking a shit. The Revolutionaries did not discriminate, however, on whether or not someone's trousers were down. Michael quickly descended on a soldier who was woefully unprepared for a battle, and the Duke buried the business end of Rage into his chest.

Moving forward, Michael charged further into the camp with his straightsword ready to strike in the blink of an eye. Another soldier who felt brave charged the young man, shouting an obscenity about Michael's mother. Michael responded with a roar as he brought his blade down onto the man's shield. The sword easily split the wood of the shield in half, stopping about halfway down. The soldier screamed in pain, because his forearm was in the spot of the shield that had split. He dropped to the ground and Michael left him there so the Duke could join the rest of the battle.

Every soldier that was trying to fight and not pull their pants up was trying their damnedest to kill the Revolutionaries. But, what they did not realize, was that these five Revolutionaries were Michael's elite guard, The Barbarians. Just one of these warriors was easily worth thirty Overworld men.

Michael had a rare ability to disarm people effortlessly with only one hand. The young, curly haired Duke reached out a hand and grasped the handle of a soldier's battle axe. He dragged it down and caused the soldier to fall off balance. With his head exposed, Michael used his sword-hand to separate the soldier's head from his shoulders. Michael then picked up the battle axe into his own grasp and turned it to around so it was battle ready. A mere second later, the Duke threw the axe randomly into the crowd of Overworlder's; the axe's business end buried itself into the chest of a soldier who was scrambling to get his armor on. The struck soldier fell to the ground, coughing out bubbles of blood.

The young Duke quickly found his battle rhythm, cutting down soldier after soldier in fluid motions. He hardly wasted more than one swing or stab to help him get through the crowd faster. Limbs dropped into the mud, blood splashed onto the rocks, and screamed echoed off of the nearby cliffs. Not that really paid attention to any of the small details. When he fought, a sort of blind “Rage Mode” that he fell into. His eyesight sharpened, as did his sense of smell, but he always told his friends he went completely deaf. He didn't hear his blade slice through flesh; he only felt the thud of his weapon hitting bone reverberate through him.

Life after life the Duke of Rage took, never missing a beat. The Overworld soldiers began to realize that he was easily their biggest threat, so they did their best to stay away from the rabid warrior and focus on the other five Barbarians who they thought must have had lesser skill. However, they sadly seriously underestimated Michael's Elite Guard. These bastard soldiers were trained by Michael himself for nearly three years, and they all mirrored Michael's fighting style to near perfection.

Michael and his guard made relatively short work of the cent Old World soldiers in just under twenty minutes. Not one of the Barbarians lost their lives in the skirmish; they had only ever lost three Barbarians in the three years Michael had commanded them, and Michael could never bring himself to replace his fallen comrades.

While Michael and the Barbarians began to pile up the bodies of the Old World soldiers, the Duke happened across a man who was still drawing breath. He was badly hurt, with a deep gash in his left side and his right arm slashed off at the crook of the elbow. His breathing was really more of a dry rasp, and his movements grew more and more strained with each passing moment.

Seizing the opportunity, Michael kneeled on the soldier's back to hold him in place, not that he was going very far anyway. “All right, motherfucker,” the Duke gritted his teeth, “I've got a couple questions.”

“Fuck you,” the Overworlder grunted. He spat, “Fucking terrorists. I'll die before... I say anything. The gods will save my soul for my loyalty.”

Michael huffed and chuckled a little bit. “Well,” he replied, “you're going to die regardless of what you say. You are bleeding out.” He grabbed the soldiers head, picked it up, and slammed him hard into the ground. “Also, speak only when I ask you shit. We clear?” The Overworlder spat in his face. Michael punched him in the nose, squirting blood everywhere. “WE CLEAR?!” The soldier whimpered and nodded. “Good. Now, you and these men were sent as a break off force from the bulk army, correct?” A slight nod. “Okay, now I want you to tell me the location of the army.” The Overworlder bit his lip and turned his head away from Michael. Impatient, Michael took the tip of Rage and toyed it I his side.

The soldier practically squealed in pain. “Okay!” he cried. “Stop! I'll talk!”

“That was easy,” Michael chuckled.

After a few moments of whimpering, the soldier began to divulge everything he knew about the army's location. Where it was when he left, where he heard they were planning to go. He probably would have told Michael whether or not he wore women's underwear if the warrior had asked. He also, said that they really had no idea exactly where Geoff's forces were, and they were just their laying in wait in case the Bishop came that way in the next week or so.

When the broken soldier had finished talking, he whimpered, “Please don't kill me, noble Duke. Please take me prisoner! Patch me up! I will give you any information you desire if you only ask!” Michael never felt more like a god than when someone was begging for their life in front of him. “Please, don't send me down to the Nether! I have a family that's counting on me! PLEASE!”

The Duke of Rage was uncharacteristically silent. He moved from the squatting position he sat in to a full stance. After a moment, he spoke with a grin, “Why should I take you prisoner?” The hope in the Overworlder's eyes slowly dimmed and darkened into fear. “You've already told me everything I want to know: where the main army is. For that I thank you.” Michael tightened his grip on his straightsword. “Also, there is the slim possibility that once I patch up up and you start to walk again, you could try to escape and tell your superiors our position.” Michael raised his sword. The man tried to hold his one hand out in protest, but the Duke quickly silenced him with a fast thrust to the face.

* * *

The next morning, Michael and the Barbarians arrived back at Geoff's encampment. Except for Michael himself, the five Barbarians went back to their barracks and went to sleep in their armour. The young Duke had to give his report to Geoff and tell him about the Overworlders ignorance to their location.

Michael wasn't even full inside the Bishop's tent before a voice with a foreign accent exclaimed, “Michael, my boi!” Gavin shot up from his chair and bolted over to his best friend. He gave Michael a full, abrasive hug and said, “Yay! You’re alive!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Gav. I'm alive, as apparent by my drawing breath. Now let fucking go of me before you knock me down,” he grunted. In addition to his already heavy equipment, Gavin's weight was not welcome on Michael's shoulders. Also, he may not have been injured in the battle, but it (along with the day long trek back) took enough out of him to be slightly woozy on his feet. Gavin apologized, to which he responded, “It's okay, I'm just really fuckin' tired after fighting and walking all the way back here.”

Gavin wasn't alone in the tent: all of the other Dukes and Geoff were there as well. Geoff and Jack were both standing over the large map table in the center, probably coming up with possible enemy strategies and their counterattacks to them. Ray was sitting at the edge of the table with with his feet resting on it while he casually plucked the thorns from a full bucket of roses and placed them in another. Ryan was sitting in the corner, slowly cleaning the edges of Alfatu with a sizable whetstone.

Michael exchanged pleasantries with his old friends and was caught up with the previous few days events regarding Gavin's gambit and Ryan's slaughter. Afterward, Michael continued with his report of his most recent battle, and he also told Geoff about the information the Overworld soldier had divulged.

“Really?” Geoff asked with a hint of astonishment in his voice. Michael reconfirmed it. The Bishop placed a hand to his chin and look over at Jack with an intense you-know-what-this-means look on his face. Jack returned the glance with a full nod.

Geoff nearly jumped with excitement as he ran about the tent. He bolted over to the table and began to trail his finger along a path only known to him. The other Dukes followed suit and swarmed around the table, curious to see what the Bishop had come up with. “This could not have been better news, Michael,” Geoff explained, “this is by far the most ideal situation we could have been presented with. Check this out.” Geoff pointed to a specific spot on the Overworld map. “We are about two days away from the Bedrock tunnels to the northeast, and with the Old World army two days away in the northwest, this would be the perfect opportunity for us to take a shortcut into the tunnels. We can avoid major bloodshed of our men and get to Austin City quicker. The Capitol will not expect us from there. After we get there, the city will be devoid of any major military presence, which will let us easily capture the city and force King Burns off his fucking throne.”

The Dukes were silent. Everyone had their own thoughts going through their minds: Gavin couldn't believe how he hadn't thought of it before, Ray was quite intrigued but disappointed that he wouldn't get to have another major fight, Michael was amazed that Geoff was really hoping on this information to execute his plan, Jack was just pleased that his and Geoff's days of critical strategizing were not going to go to waste.

Ryan actually voiced his thoughts. “Yeah, sorry Geoff,” he interjected, “but fuck that.” Geoff raised an eyebrow and asked what the problem was. “Aren't we forgetting what's down in those Bedrock tunnels? The Endermen. Those old creatures have never taken kindly to us in the past, so what makes you think that they'll let us pass through and not encase us in the walls for all eternity?”

“Well,” Geoff replied, “there is no 100% way of being sure that they won't slaughter us where we stand. However, the reason they don't like Men is because of the oppressive force The Overworld Monarchy pushed them into those tunnels with in the first place. If we get down there and let them know our plans, and if we promise them free roaming above ground, there stands a good chance they might let us through.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Might, maybe, chance,” he repeated. “There is no real way of knowing.” He dropped his head. “Also, I don't have a very good history with the Endermen.”

“Yeah,” Geoff replied with a somber tone, remembering exactly what Ryan was referencing, “I know.”

I've never had any problems with the Endermen,” Gavin interjected with a smile. “I was actually friends with one for a bit.”

“Gavin,” Ryan bit back, “no one gives a fuck about your Frienderman!” Gavin shut up and hid back behind Michael. Ryan turned back to Geoff. “Geoff, I'm sorry, but I don't think you know just how deep this runs for me. I can't go into hose tunnels. If me not going into those tunnels is a cause for a court marshal, then so be it.”

“Ryan,” Geoff cut off his friend, “I get it. You can't go into the Bedrock tunnels, and I don't expect you to. In this scheme, you aren't even going to go to Austin City with the rest of us.” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “For this, I am going to promote you to my second in command for a while, a Lord if you will.” He stepped over to his old friend and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “For the next ten days, you will be known as Lord Ryan Haywood.”

The Dukes all congratulated Ryan on his promotion. After the festivities died down, Ryan asked, “So what exactly am I going to have to do as your temporary Lord?”

Geoff sat down at his table and gestured for Ryan to sit next to him. When he did so, Geoff said, “What I'm going to have you do is take a battalion of about three hundred men and scout out the main army. If the intelligence Michael provided is correct, hen they should be in one of a few clearing two days away. I don't want you to engage them in direct combat, but instead see if you can set up a false cease fire for the next five days.”

“What makes you think that the army General will even talk to me and not have me decapitated?” Ryan asked.

“If General Luna is as arrogant as I remember him to be, you'll have no trouble in coercing him to listen to you. You just have to figure out what he's after.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow again. “And what is he after?”

* * *

 

The main Overworld army encampment was full of activity as the sun started to set. In the main area, and circle of people had formed a barrier to keep the people inside from leaving. Those people were one nameless soldier and General Miles Luna. Neither of the combatants had a weapon, only their bare fists. They had been fighting for nearly five minutes, and the soldier had begun to wear out slowly.

General Luna dodged a punch from the soldier and grabbed it, stopping his momentum. Luna twisted his arm behind him and wrenched it back, snapping the bone. The soldier cried out in pain and cried out that he submitted. The general dropped his opponent and let him get carried away be a few medics. He wiped the flop sweat from his brow and left the circle with the praise of his men at his back.

At the back of the circle of soldiers stood a shorter Oriental man who was garbed unlike any other soldier in the camp. He had braces on his forearms that hid little needles and spikes and a vest that held many little surprises. When General Luna approached him, the man said, “No offense, sir, but that was rather boring.”

“I know, Oum,” Luna sighed heavily. “There's no real challenge in any of my men. They are neither up to my standards, nor do they truly have the balls to take a swing at me.”

He and the man called Oum began to walk back to Luna's tent. Without anyone really noticing or caring to pay attention, and beautiful young woman with a strange hair colour caught up to Oum and started walking silently behind him.

When they arrived at the general's tent, Luna said, “I'm going to retire for the evening.” As he stepped inside, Oum heard him mutter under his breath, “Maybe tomorrow something more interesting will happen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Three and a half hours of work up and done! Hope you guys are enjoying it so far. More characters are sure to come. Plenty of fights are ahead.  
> As always, comments and constructive criticism are welcome!  
> Until next time!


	3. Race to Bedrock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we're back with another chapter in this old legend! It's taken forever to sit down and do this because of reasons too numerous to count. But it's here now, and that's all the matters.  
> I am in no way affiliated with Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus, not do I own any part of Minecraft. This is pure entertainment.

_Ryan's conscious slowly drifted back into his head. He didn't open his eyes right away because he knew that it would be detrimental to his already somewhat discontent mood. He attempted to bring his left hand up to his face to rub his eyes before trying to open them, but something was pinning it down. He quickly let his right hand do the job and peered out through his eyelids._

_There, laying just a foot to his left and face down in the pillows of his king size bed, was Amy. Her long golden hair covered her slender face, but Ryan had no doubt that it was here who laying sleeping beside him. There was no one else it could be. Amy must have subconsciously realized Ryan was looking at her because she stirred slightly and pressed her face further into the crisp pillows. Her movement allowed Ryan to take his arm out from under her, and when he did he realized that it had fallen asleep._

_Ryan chuckled to himself. Haywood scooted himself up into a sitting position carefully without waking her, which wasn't that hard if he was being completely honest. She could have slept through a twister if she was tired enough. He placed his working hand on her naked back and began to trace little patterns across it. It was something he always seemed to do when he woke up before her, and every once in a while he'd do a particularly crazy one that would either wake her up or tickle her in her sleep. Today, she must have really wanted to stay in whatever dreamworld she was in because no matter what Ryan drew, Amy did not stir._

_He eventually convinced himself that he needed to get up and dressed for the day, so he quit his favorite morning activity and slipped out of the bed. He stood up straight and stretched out his arms and back, letting the cool morning air envelope his nude body. He could definitely tell that Fall was on the way because the bed chamber was no longer warm regardless of a fire being in the place or not. He walked over to the mirror in the center of the south wall and inspected his face; he hadn't shaved in a few days as he had found no time for it, and his beard was beginning to get long and the hair on his neck was starting to grow back._

_ Can't have that, _ _Ryan thought to himself. He brought over his cleaning bowl to the where he was and cleaned his hands. He then retrieved his shaving cream mixture and his favorite straight razor, the one his grandfather passed down to him. After lathering up the mixture and spreading it on his face, Haywood began to slice the dark hairs from his face and neck. The first swipe across his neck was flawless, but the second passed resulted in a little nick toward the base of his throat._

_He finished shaving his face in about ten minutes; his face was as clean and soft as the day he was born. “I was wondering when you were going to take care of that,” a voice commented. Ryan turned around to see that Amy had awoken. She rubbed her throat in a gesture, “this right here was starting to get a bit thick.”_

_Ryan smiled sweetly and rubbed his face. “I'm glad you approve, dear,” he said. “I've been letting it get long lately, and it really began to look bad. I was starting to look like some sort of vagabond who wandered from city to city in search for something.”_

_Amy chuckled at the idea of her man being a vagabond. “I really don't think you would make it as a wanderer,” she said. She then looked him up and down in his naked form. “But,” she added, “if you were, you would definitely be the handsomest vagabond I ever set eyes on.”_

_Ryan raised an eyebrow and grinned deviously. He started to walk over to the bed. “Oh?” he asked shrewdly, “You've looked upon a lot of vagabonds, I take it?” He stopped at the foot of the bed._

_Amy returned Ryan's grin and shrugged. “One or two.” She sprang forward from her sitting position on the bed, grabbed Ryan by the shoulders, and pulled him back onto the bed. When he was next to her again, she said, “But you are definitely the vagabond I have seen the_ _ most _ _of.” She laughed._

_Ryan laughed too. Then, he asked, “But here's the question: would I have still stolen your heart if I were a lowly wanderer and not who I am now?”_

_Amy didn't miss a beat. “Ryan, I would love you if you had everything or nothing at all.” She reached out and poked his node with her index finger. “I love_ _ you _ _. Not your titles.” She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. Ryan returned the kiss in full._

_They both got up and dressed for the day in relative quiet, until Amy said with her back turned, “Hey, about what I said about your titles earlier...”_

_Ryan was genuinely confused. “Yeah, what about them?”_

_Amy turned around with a huge grin ion her face. “You're about to get a new one...” Ryan looked at her with a look that was anything but understanding, and then in a moment of epiphany, he realized what it was. “Yep,” Amy confirmed, “you're going to be a father!”_

 

“Lord Haywood?”

Ryan jerked awake from his sleep with a jump. He brought his left hand up and cleaned out the gunk from his eyes. _Too long,_ he thought. _I was out for far too long._ When he opened his eyes, he saw one of his captains looking down at him. The Lord took a quick look around him and realized that he was laying down on a cot in a tent, just where he’d left himself last night.

“Lord Haywood,” the captain said again. This time, Ryan focused his attention on the man, letting him know to continue. “We are just about all packed up, so we should be ready to move out within the hour.”

Ryan took a moment to perceive what was being said to him. After interpreting the message, he replied, “Very good, Dooley.” He slowly stood up and stretched out his muscles. He now looked down at his captain because the man was several inches, perhaps even a whole foot, below Haywood in regards to height.

Despite Dooley’s outward appearance of a munchkin who could never quite get the bread off the shelf with the assistance of a stool, he was a quite capable fighter. After all, Ryan did not promote him to captain just because he needed to look taller. Dooley used to be a joker for the King, turning tricks and flipping all around the throne room. Now, because of his athletic abilities, Dooley was able to roll and flip around a battlefield, cutting down soldier after soldier with little knives and short swords.

As he dressed himself, Ryan asked his captain, “how long was I asleep? I went to bed before the sun was fully set, and now the sun is in the same position on the other side.”

“I’m not sure the exact time, sir,” Dooley replied, “but I think it’s somewhere near ten hours.”

“Fuck,” Ryan exclaimed quietly. “That’s far too long. Why didn’t anyone come wake me up hours ago?”

Dooley hesitated to speak.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “What is it, captain? Speak.”

Captain Dooley bit his lip as if he was carefully choosing his next words to keep Ryan from becoming angry. “Well,” he started, “we hadn’t stopped riding for nearly two days since we left the camp, and we were all very tired.” If Ryan had any emotion, he didn’t show it. “So, when we went to sleep last night, many of the soldiers fell asleep on watch and didn’t wake up until a few minutes.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Ryan warned. “Tell me why no one who was awake came to wake me up before now?”

“Truth?” Dooley asked. Ryan nodded. “We were scared to come in. You were having one of you old nightmares again.”

Ryan huffed. _I figured,_ he thought. He rubbed his chin, feeling his five o’clock shadow that was quickly becoming a full beard again. He took a deep breath and asked, “Did I say anything?”

Dooley nodded, “You were calling out for her again.”

Ryan cursed silently. _Not again._ _Why won’t that ghost leave me alone?_ He straightened himself up and said, “Please leave me, Dooley. Tell the men that I am leaving in twenty minutes, and if they are not ready to go with me, I will leave them behind and treat them as AWOL.” No one ever wanted to be AWOL with Ryan in charge of their squad because when he had his chance, he always hunted those deserters with brutal efficiency.

With the fear properly put in him, Dooley nodded. “Yes, sir. I will pass the word along.” He turned around and practically bolted out of the tent. What followed next was ten minutes of shouting and panic as soldiers woke up, cleaned up and formed their ranks. Ryan chuckled because all he ever had to do was kill two deserters and the stories of his brutality did the rest. There was no way he was alert enough to kill deserters today; he had other, more important matters to attend to.

Lord Haywood finished dressing himself, but his garbs were not intended for a battle; he was wearing his dress clothes. They consisted of a white dress shirt under a tailed black dress coat and a stylish kilt with black dress shoes on his lower half. It had been so long since he had an occasion to wear this attire, not since he had his globally recognizable title. He noticed that he was noticeably thinner than when he last wore the kilt, but luckily, one day a few years ago, Ryan came up with an idea to keep his kilts in place. He created little hoop tubes along the inside of his kilt so he could stick a belt inside and tighten it accordingly. He did this for all of his battle kilts, but on a whim, he did the same for his one dress kilt from his old life. Lucky him. After strapping Alfatu to his left hip, the Mad Lord straightened his posture and stepped outside his tent.

Outside, his men were working tirelessly to pack up the rest of the encampment and get it ready for transport. In the dense forest where they were staying, men were disappearing behind groups of trees and coming out at random places meters away like some sort of military whack-a-mole game. Ryan laughed to himself again. “OKAY, MEN!” Ryan called loud enough for everyone to hear, “YOU CAN STOP!” Every single soldier stopped dead in his tracks out of bewilderment. Quieter, Ryan said, “I'm not going to kill any of you for not being fast enough, it was just to get you riled up for today.” A massive collection of sighs of relief filled the camp.

Ryan made his way to the northwest edge of the camp and stood up on a tall tree stump. He pointed off into the distance; about a kilometer to the northwest was a huge clearing that contained the bulk of the Old World Army. “Just beyond these trees lies a force of nearly thirty thousand Soldiers of the Old World. We have a battalion of three hundred Revolutionaries. While I would like to say that each and every one of you is worth at least a hundred Overworlders, I know that in actual combat, we would most likely be slaughtered.” Murmurs milled throughout the camp, most of which were questioning why they were there in the first place. Everyone quietened when Ryan started speaking again. “Now I know that most of you are now wondering why we are even here in the first place if there is no chance of us winning in battle. You definitely have the right to doubt my sanity right now, but I can assure you that you are here for a reason.”

While Geoff had given Ryan a decent blueprint of what to do, the Bishop had neglected to tell him any details of what to do with his forces. Should he have them come with him to the main camp or should they hold back in the trees, trapped like rats? Ryan had thought of this whenever he had the spare time, he thought he had a functional plan.

The Mad Lord stepped down from his stump and began to walk among his soldiers. “You see,” he continued, “you are not here to do battle today, you are merely here to be a red herring.” Many of the soldiers in the Revolution were not educated, so Ryan added, “A red herring is something that is meant to distract from what is really happening.” Many “ahs” rang out through the camp. “Notice how we did not stop nearly the whole time on our way here. That was so we made as much noise as possible for General Luna's scouts to see where we were going. Now, there is little doubt that he knows we are here. With a force this small, he will not see the need to set up his defenses too much.

“Here comes the crazy bit, though. I am going to go to the camp on my own.” More murmurs filled the camp, but Ryan quickly continued. “I can't risk that paranoid bastard Luna thinking I am bringing bodyguards with me to kill him when he would least expect it. Also, I really don't _want_ to risk any more of your lives than absolutely necessary. So what I am going to have you do is quietly make you way to the other side of the clearing by way of the forest, and then break off into squads of fifty, spread around the clearings edge just in case something goes wrong.”

Dooley spoke up. “But, Lord Haywood,” he asked, “you haven't said why you're going to the camp alone.” Agreement rang about the soldiers. A number of them had suspicions in the back of their minds that Ryan was going to sell them on and sick the Overworlders of them. With his sadistic streak, they didn't think it would be too out of character for him.

“I am going to try and get an audience with General Luna.” Those suspicions started to grow among the men. “While there, I am going to attempt to convince him to a temporary cease fire for five days and begin negotiations for exchanges of each other's POW's.”

“Are we really going to stop fighting for five days?” a brave soldier spoke up.

“ _We_ are,” Ryan motioned to the lot of soldiers around him. “We are going to give the illusion that both armies will be at peace as long as negotiations don't break down while Geoff and the rest of the army go through the Bedrock tunnels and sneak to the Capitol and take them down. Therein also lies your second purpose. If our “cease fire” work, I will need most of you to leave and make it look like you are going to tell the army about it.”

Ryan looked out among the men under his command; they seemed to be much more at ease than they were a few moments ago. “So,” Ryan called out, “does anyone have any questions as to what we are doing here?” Everyone was silent. “okay, then,” Ryan turned and started walking towards the clearing, “let's go to work.”

 

Gavin plucked another arrow from his leather quiver and began to twirl it between his fingers after he lost control of the last one and let it fall out of the tree down to the ground some thirty-something feet below. _Third time's the charm,_ he thought. The arrow passed in between each finger seamlessly, forefinger to middle, middle to ring finger, ring finger to pinkie, and back again. The Duke repeated this five times before stopping and holding it tight in his fist. _Little surprise this one did it._ He ran a slender finger from the nock to the head, remembering his oath.

The arrow held a significant place in Gavin's heart. The head itself was passed down through his family from father to son for nearly one hundred fifty years. It had once been the killing arrow that brought down a dragon who threatened his homeland, a pale green fire drake named Kayzen. The shaft had long since disintegrated, so the obsidian head was all that was left. When Gavin went to leave for the Revolution, his childhood friend Dan made a new shaft for it so he could carry it in his quiver. He had polished and worked hard to sharpen the obsidian arrowhead. The shaft was painted black steel and the feathers of a rare green bird were used for the fletching, and to top it off, Dan had a smith forge tiny barbs into the edges of the head. Being a man who abhorred violence but understood what Gavin had to do, Dan gave it to Gavin under the condition that he only ever fire it into the King's heart. It was a promise Gavin fully intended to keep.

“Hey, Gavin!” came Jack's voice. The young duke placed the arrow in his quiver and looked down below him. Jack was standing nearly directly under him. “Get down here!” the Bearded Duke said. “the army's just about caught up.”

Gavin had told Geoff he would scout ahead and travel through the trees just to be safe. He was much faster when he was in the trees; it gave gave him a sense of freedom to be above everyone else along with a feeling that any instant could be the one where he slips and dies. After five minutes of tree-running, Gavin forgot about scouting and just kept running onward for nearly two hours. When he realized how far out he'd gotten, he decided to sit in a branch and wait for them to catch up. That, and he was a little lost and didn't know the exact way. He was lucky Jack had found him.

The young duke stood up on his branch and started down the tree. He dropped off his perch and landed on another branch seven feet down, and he used the downward momentum to slide off that branch down to a third one that instead off landing on, he passed up, grabbed a hold off, and swung to another nearby tree. This tree had a v-fork in it thirteen feet up, so Gavin ran along the branch and slid into the pouch off bark. He then jumped out of the v-fork and caught hold of a lower branch in the first tree and used the swing to spin himself into a flip, which he effortlessly landed on the ground below.

The Bearded Duke raised a thick eyebrow upon his friend's dismount. “What the hell was that about?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The flip. What was the point of the flip?”

“Oh,” Gavin replied, “nothing really. They were just flips for style, I supposed.” Jack rolled his eyes and repeated the response under his breath. “So how did you find me? I was thirty some-odd feet in the trees.”

“It was all happenchance, really. I was sent out to make sure that you weren’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere. You were pretty far out; we had no idea where you had gotten to.” Jack took this chance to slap Gavin hard across the face, sending him sprawling into the grass and leaves. “That was from Geoff,” he explained. “He told me that if I see you before does that I should slap you a bit.”

“A bit?” Gavin exclaimed as he rose to his feet. “You nearly took my bleeding head off! I’m gonna have to check if I have all my teeth after this!”

“Quit bitching, Gavin. I only put a third effort into that swing.” Jack wasn’t lying. He was much stronger than any of the other Revolutionaries, so a lot of times he did not now his own strength. Once in battle, Jack had lost his sword in the melee and was left to his own devices. Determined to find his blade, he punched his way through his opponents, denting breastplates and helms and splintering wooden shields. Jack was always much too modest to brag about the event, but enough people had seen the spectacle to deny it had taken place.

The duo quickly made their way back to the bulk army to check in with Geoff. When Gavin saw the Bishop, he received another slap across the face that left his lying on the ground again. When Geoff had worked out his frustration on the duke, he welcomed back his old friend with open arms.

“For gods' sake, Gavin,” Geoff growled at him, “what was going through your head that made you think you could run off and sleep in the trees when we're so close to the tunnels?”

Indifferently, Gavin replied, “I wasn't napping, Geoff. I just wanted time to think to myself. Is that so bad?”

Michael walked into the Dukes' vicinity. Upon hearing Gavin's rhetorical question, he responded, “Yes, it is. With every step, we're getting closer and closer to the Capitol. The closer we get to the Capitol, the more dangers we have the chance of facing. Do I really need to explain any of the, you dolt?”

Realizing his mistake, Gavin looked at the ground. “No, you don't have to,” he mumbled.

“Good,” Geoff said, straightening himself up and putting on his stoic face. “Now, let's get going.” He called for the army to move out.

Two hours later, The Revolution appeared at the mouth of the dark pits that were the Bedrock Tunnels. The tunnels were rumored to have been built by the old entities that lived here before the Endermen made their way into existence. The only light that penetrated the cold darkness was the light of the Endermen's eyes that peered through the tunnels looking for resources.

Just the same as Ryan, Gavin was none too fond of the tunnels but for his own, less dark-past reasons. While Ryan resented the old tunnels' inhabitants, Gavin had a fear of the fact that it was pitch black down there. He was absolutely terrified of the dark. He often wondered what he would do if he had a torch that magically went out for no reason. Could he handle the scare of instantly being enveloped in darkness, encased by cold, hard stone with creatures inside with him that were capable of moving the earth on a whim? Probably not.

Geoff, who was heading the army down into Bedrock, turned around to face all of his men. “From here until nearly a day and a half from now,”,” he called out, “we will be in near complete darkness. So, with that in made, you will want to uses you're torches sparingly so you don't run out of light. We will be walking for a long time, and if all goes well, we will get to speak with the Endermen. When we are treating with them, don't show them you flames; we don't want them to freak out and trap up a few hundred feet underground.” There was a small murmur among the men as if they were debating on whether or not to bolt and save themselves the trouble of being in Bedrock surrounded by Endermen. When no one took off running into the woods, Geoff said, “Okay! Let's move out!”

Geoff and the dukes mounted their steeds and began to lead the force of Revolutionaries into the Bedrock Tunnels. Each step the soldiers took into the ancient caverns dimmed their eyesight darker and darker to the point where they could barely see past the light provided by their torches. Despite all the torches being wielded in the caverns, the tunnels sucked out every wave of heat being given out by the flames. All of the warmth seemed to be stolen from everything in there, the soldiers included.

“H-hey, Gavin,” Michael muttered to his friend to his left, “what would you do if your torch suddenly went out?” It took Gavin a moment to realize what the Duke of Rage was hinting at. It was a moment to late. Michael reached over to his horse-mounted companion and knocked the torch out of his hands. The wood dropped to the floor of the cavern and the flames crashed as steamed out as they fell in a puddle.

“Wot?” Gavin yelped in a combination ODF fear and surprise. He frantically hopped off his steed and dove to the ground in search of his security torch. “Bollocks!” he swore as his hands scoured the darkness. When his hand brushed up against something war,, he didn't hesitate to reach of and grasp it. Only, it wasn't his missing torch. It was a steaming pile of horse shit. Gavin's hand pressed all the way through the mass of feces, causing it to fold in on his hand, giving him a sort of “shit-glove.”

Gavin puked.

It took a few minutes after pulling him to the side and talking him down, but Michael was able to sooth Gavin's nerves and get him to stop dry-heaving. “I'm sorry.” Michael apologized with a snigger in his voice and a smile on his face. “I didn't think you'd go fist first int o a pile of stallion shit. I know it sucks on your end, but from my side, it's pretty fuckin' funny.”

Moreso lying than sitting on his orse, Gavin managed to wheez out in the darkness, “You're rubbish Michael. Why did you have to go and do that?”

Michael shrugged, “I thought it would be funny.” When Gavin stared him down through the veil of darkness, Michael added, “It WAS funny.”

“HOLD!!!” Geoff called from the head of the army. It was then that Michael realized just how far behind they had fallen because of Gavin's puking. “Gavin! Michael! Get your assess up here!” The two young dukes composed themselves and rode past their fellow soldiers to meet with their Bishop.

There with Geoff sat Jack and Ray alongside next to him, each of them with their own horse that seemed to be getting fidgety. Jack had removed his dark blue battle helmet and was wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. He even had to wring some out of his thick, ginger beard. Ray was a complete statue, staring out into the cold, black oblivion with intense, unblinking eyes. His right hand began to take on a slight twitch as it hovered over the handle of his falchion Blayze.

As the young dukes arrived at the head with their friends, Michael asked, “What's up, Geoff? Did we spot any Endermen yet?”

“Not AN Enderman,” Ray muttered. Michael and Gavin looked ahead to where everyone else was staring.

“We found ALL the Endermen,” Geoff grinned at no one in particular.

The tightly packed tunnel opened up into a massive cavern that looked like some sort of subterranean civilization. In the center of the humongous cavern was a giant constructed building of sorts composed of bedrock and obsidian. From the openings in the building came multitudes of bright, purple eyes peering out, looking at the intruders. But, there was no open walking path to it; in fact, there was no more real floor. There were only bridges that led to other parts of the cave; beneath the bridges was nothing but an empty void of a drop. Along the walls of the giant room were more opening, presumably housing more Endermen. The only light that let them see what it looked like filtered down from holes in the top of the Bedrock. It reminded Ray of a combination of a snow globe and a fish tank with the filtering light and hiding places for all of the living things in it.

“Jack?” Geoff called. “Jack confirmed that he was listening. “Let's hope that you are as good a talker with Endermen as you are with humans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not much REALLY happened in this chapter, this was really just a set-up chapter to get things ready for new characters to be introduced next time. I really am enjoying creating thing "world", so I hope I'll be able to work on this for a long time.  
> As always, comments and constructive criticism are welcome.  
> Until next time!


End file.
